SSC Stupid Story Collection
by Charmingly.Retro
Summary: The title says it all. Ponyboy acts like an idiot, Dally destroys things, Two-Bit gets drunk, and Darry spazzes out. Overall, its a lot of swimming, awkward family dinners, and some drunken madness. Hilarious. Co-written by JohnnyIsMyGoldSunset.
1. Gone Swimming

This is my first fanfiction and I hope you like the stupidity. JohnnyIsMyGoldSunset is co-writing this with me. It is a collection of stupid short stories. This is obviously the "movie" Ponyboy, not the "book" Ponyboy. Read and review!

Disclaimer: We obviously don't own The Outsiders…as we are writing on **FAN**_FICTION. _Those "Thunder Thighs" are all of ours.

POV Dallas

"This is so stupid. I hate life," I muttered to myself, sitting in the backseat of Two-Bit's car.

"But I **_love_** swimming!" Ponyboy chirped.

"Shut up, Ponyboy," spat Two-Bit from the driver's seat.

Yup, I hate life. I was stuck in the car with Two-Bit, Pony, and Johnny on the way to the public pool. Darry was taking Steve and Soda. Luckies.

"We're here! Grab the soy milk, Dallas."

Darry's all worried that Ponyboy will get dehydrated and Darry claims that he's lactose intolerant because Pony drinks milk for lunch at school and Darry always has to bring a change of underwear right in the middle of 7th period. Darry walks right in and just hands them to Ponyboy like it's a usual routine. Which it is.

We filed toward the front door like a colony of fire ants marching to their deaths. Five minutes later, we were changed and ready to jump in the pool. Ponyboy's suit (only marginally better than his birthday suit) was a man-kini, kind of like a tankini…only for men. I think Pony's the only male on the planet who wears one. Two-Bit's suit, like everything else he owned, had Mickey Mouse all over it. It had Mickey Mouse pockets, and Mickey Mouse buttons and Mickey Mouse's grotesque, little face in the most awkward places.

Well Johnny's suit…there isn't much to be said about his. It was Hawaiian print. Whoo-hoo.

Now **MINE** was obsidian and splattered with crimson, like blood. Darry stepped out in a Speedo and as far as Speedos go…it was a little on the skimpy side. Good thing he was wearing a T-shirt. Sodapop had the most cliché bathing suit ever. It had sodapop on it! Coca-Cola everywhere. Steve's made my eyes hurt. Dark blue with big, red Spiderman, right in the middle of his butt, half on each side.

Darry, Steve, Two-Bit and Soda headed for the diving board, which left Pony, Johnny, and me for the kiddy pool. I would've headed for the deep end to watch the younger kids flounder, but I was stuck watching Pony and Johnny went wherever I went.

Johnny jumped in and started to "puppy paddle" across the kiddy pool and I watched in amusement as his little, black head bobbed up and down in the water.

"Johnny, don't drown!" Ponyboy screamed from the side of the pool and he took a flying leap into the two feet of water. SPLAT! Immediately, he grabbed onto Johnny's ankles and pulled him under.

"I'm saving you!" he gurgled through a mouthful of water. Then they disappeared under the water, leaving behind nothing but bubbles. I don't know how Pony managed it in two feet of water, but he was drowning both of them.

"Stand up, you ninny!" I howled. When nobody moved, I called to Darry, who had abandoned the diving board and was sitting on the edge, playing life-guard. He dashed over and yelled with much masculinity.

"Pony! You stop drowning Johnny! Be a good friend!"

Right at that moment, Darry and I looked at each other in anticipation grabbing two handfuls of our shirts in unison. We shredded them and cast the tattered remains onto the tarmac. We stepped nonchalantly into the pool. Grabbing him by the back of his man-kini, Darry lifted his younger brother out of the water, forcefully chucking a distressed Ponyboy onto the pavement.

Johnny popped out of the water. "What happened?" he asked, confused.

I turned furiously on Ponyboy.

"You almost drowned him! You-" but Darry beat me to it,

"You don't use your head!"

You'd think things would get better after that…but no, no, no…not when you're hanging with the Curtis'.

No sooner had Darry loaded Pony down with floaties, then Pony hopped into the "real" pool, splashing a woman in a "real" tankini. Pony made quite an entrance. This was not just a regular lady. She was fat. And when I say fat, I mean **_FAT._** Emphasis on the **_FAT _**part. It was like if you took all of Darry's muscles and turned them into fat and multiplied that by about ten. Ponyboy started screaming, "THUNDER THIGHS! THUNDER THIGHS!" and pointing rudely at the woman's abnormally hefty thighs.

"Shut up, Pony!" hissed Darry from across the pool. Noticing the woman's preoccupation, I took advantage of her snack bag lying open on the table. Ooh, do I ever love fatty snacks. Catching sight of me chowing down on an extra-large bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, Darry screamed at me too.

"DALLAS AMADEUS WINSTON! YOU PUT THOSE DOWN!"

"It's Dallas **BLOOD **Winston, thank you very much, Darrel **CHEYENNE **Curtis Jr.!" I hollered back.

"Oh look who's talkin'! You know its **SHAYNE**!" he retorted furiously.

"Shut up, Wyoming-boy!" I screamed because everyone knows that Cheyenne is the capitol of Wyoming.

"THUNDER THIGHS!" Ponyboy screeched from the pool, cutting our violent reactions short.

Then some random "pool security", or as we like to call them "pool fuzz" showed up and permanently banned us from the pool for "inappropriate pool activity." And thus, the fire ants sunk to their watery grave.


	2. Drunken and Drooling

Two-Bit gets ridiculously drunk in this chapter and goes crazy! Thanks to all the people who've reviewed and favorited; keep it up! Enjoy.

POV Two-Bit

Sitting alone at the drive-in, I took another swig from my bottle, which I had tried, and failed, to disguise with a paper lunch sack. I knew I was gettin' drunk, and I knew I should stop, but I like bein' drunk. As I stood up, I could feel how unsteady I was and I knew this was probably the worst I had ever been. Awesome. I swaggered/staggered toward Dally's favorite entrance to the drive-in. The one that doesn't exist… Or does it? It may have been an illegal entrance, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist… Does it?

I got down on all fours and crawled through. You don't have to crawl, but I was too woozy to bend over half-way and shuffle through. Smooshing my face into the fence, I fell flat on my butt, spilling the remnants of my almost-empty beer bottle.

"Ugh." I grunted. "I was gonna finish that."

I could feel the eyes of the disturbed, _legal_ drive-in customers staring at me, so I turned and told them just what I thought of their judgmental glares.

Drool trickling from the corner of my mouth, I began my rant. "You uppity, snotty Socs! Buzz off and let a drunk man be! Is that too much for you to handle? Can't you leave me be? I know you didn't come for this stupid movie, you came for entertainment. COME AND GET IT!" I jumped up and started to dance. I jerked up and down spasmodically as I spun in small circles, waving my empty beer bottle through the air. "YEEE-HAW!" Suddenly, I turned and slipped through the gap-y fence, leaving the movie goers in shock.

Next thing I knew, I was smacking into the stupid sign they have at the entrance of Marcia's neighborhood. It said, **Welcome to the West Side.** Or did it say,**WEE-ST SIDE**?

"All right then," I mumbled. And vaguely thought, _wee._

I unzipped my trousers, or, in other words, scummy jeans, and micturated on that dim-witted sign.

Rezipping my pants, I stumbled on in the general direction of Marcia's. _Why am I going to Marcia's? What am I thinking? She'll probably call the fuzz on me. She's probably taking a fancy, Socy bath, with fancy, Socy bath beads. Yeah… bath beads._

Ooh, do I ever do love Socy bath beads. Creeping up to her bedroom window, I peeked inside. She was sleeping. To get her attention I licked the window melodramatically. It tasted scummy, more how you would expect a Greaser's window to taste. Not a Socy window, though. "Martha!" I called, my tongue still glued to the scummy window. "Wake ut! Wake ut, Martha!" Jerking up-right in her bed, Marcia opened her mouth to scream, but recognizing my devilishly handsome face, she gasped instead. "Two-Bit! What are you doing here? You do know it's two in the morning right?"

I stared at her blankly. "Thwo-bith?"

She opened the window, inadvertently peeling my tongue off of it. "Two-Bit! Are you drunk?"

"Nooooooo. Why do you ask? Besides, Two-Bit isn't here right now. I'm Keith."

"Okayyy… Keith. Where's Two-Bit?" she asked.

Ignoring her question, I continued, "Two-Bit wants you to know he wishes you were blonde. He likes blondes. And fights. And school. No! Wait… I like school. I like it a lot."

A dark tunnel opened up behind Marcia's head and I just sort of let it swallow me up. "Bye-bye, Marcia."

I woke up on the ground, which was odd. Last thing I remembered I'd been lookin' in Marcia's windo- THAT DIRTY BR**D! She must've pushed me off her windowsill and gone back to sleep. Suddenly becoming aware of my new position, I realized I was tottering down the middle of the street, cars swerving to avoid me. As gobs of slobber spraying from my open maw, I sang "Ain't nothin' but a hound daaawwwgg!" Enjoying the word, "dawg" I repeated it, when it morphed into something else "DAAALLLLAAAAASSSSS!" I screamed like an excited child. Sprinting up the side of the road, Dallas appeared to be in some kind of hurry. The sirens and red and blue lights should have tipped me off to what would happen next. They didn't.

"Hey D-man!" I shrieked. "What's goin' on, you latke-monger!"

"Lakka what?" he asked.

"Dal-" I never finished my sentence because drool came frothing out of my mouth, dripping down my chin, and soaking the front of my shirt. Dally stared at me for one of those long "movie moments" and grabbed me by the waist of my pants He chucked me onto the hood/windshield of the oncoming fuzz-mobile. My face hit the window with a loud SMACK and my spittle transferred from my oral cavity to their windshield.

**EAST SIDE POLICE STATION, INTERROGETION ROOM: 4 a.m.**

This time I woke up and immediately knew where I was. I wasn't getting a good vibe. All tingly and y'know…electric-y. Oh crap…da fuzz…

"Please state your name, sir," a big, chubby cop demanded peevishly from across the table.

"Two-Bit…" I started to drool a little more…the table was already practically submerged in my saliva. What could a little more hurt?

"Surname?" Fatzo stipulated.

"JOHNNY! TWO-BIT! DALLY! AMADEUS! CHEYENNE! PONYBOY! BLOOD! STEVE! KEITH! SODAPOP! DARE-BEAR! MICHAEL! MARCIA! Dirty br**d…" I muttered crossly.

"Do you have any relation to these…people?" Fatty asked.

At that point, I stopped caring and allowed myself to pass out in a puddle of my own drool.

"Bye-bye, Fatty…"


	3. A Different Destination

The awkward family dinner is thanks to "Asain dad- b+ again? You die!" (a youtube video) We felt we should give them credit!

POV Sodapop

Silverware clinked on dishware as Ponyboy pushed his food into different texture categories on his plate.

"Are you gonna eat it or just play with it?" Darry chastised.

"I wanted Ramen noodles…" Ponyboy whined, looking gloomily at the steak and potatoes on his plate. Darry rarely makes steak, and most of our family, Darry and me, take advantage when he does.

_Oh no…_ I thought of Ponyboy's comment, because I know how Darry likes to be appreciated and abhors Ramen noodles. Ooh, do I ever love Ramen noodles...

"Ramen noodles are GARBAGE!" Darry ranted, "They might as well put straight carbohydrates on a plate and serve them to you! That's all Ramen is! Water and noodles and those sodium-rich flavor packets! It's a heart attack in a bag! Now shut up and eat your steak, Ponyboy!" He looked back at his plate.

Ponyboy went back to poking his food uncomfortably. Darry started conversation as the awkward silence flooded the air.

"How's school?"

"Okay, I guess…" Ponyboy grimaced. It was Thursday night, and the gang never comes then. They all know from experience how Darry gets on Thursdays with his lecture attacks. One time, the first time the gang experienced this, Darry lectured Johnny about how he needs a haircut and a balanced diet. Dally didn't take well to that and defended that chocolate bars ARE healthy. I honestly worry about him sometimes.

"What do you have in English?"

"Umm…well, you see…uhhh…"

"SAY IT!" Darry flipped, and steak sprayed all over my face.

"I-I…uhhh…"

"TELL ME ABOUT ENGLISH!"

"I got a…a B+…"

"A-a-a-a….a B-B-B +? A B+?" Darry stuttered in shock. Pony's always had a B+ in English…what kind of surprise is this?

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis! What is the matter-?"

"CHEYENNE!" Dally screamed, suddenly popping his crazed face into the dining room.

"HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU? IT'S SHAYNNE! Must you ALWAYS interrupt my chastisement?" Darry shouted, not missing a beat. It was like he had this rehearsed.

PFFT! PFFT! PFFT! Ponyboy's butt exploded like a nuclear bomb, filling the room with a foul-smelling cloud. Dally's hair fell straight onto his face like it was wet. He used some colorful adjectives to describe Ponyboy's sudden freshness. (Now, freshness doesn't always mean what you think it means. It can mean, among other things: green, crisp, and gassy. You can guess which one Dally was shocked by.)

"Oh, glory hallelujah, Ponyboy! Did you drink milk today?" Darry exclaimed, choking on the thick, tinged, green air.

"We need to get him to the doctor!" I demanded, worried about my baby brother's sudden rectal expostulation.

Darry, Dallas, Ponyboy, and me all piled into the car, making sure the windows were rolled down the WHOLE way, and headed to the pediatrician. Dallas wanted to make Pony ride on the roof, so we wouldn't have to smell him, but Darry wouldn't agree to that. Sure I wanted to get Pony to the doctor, but I didn't wanna need a doctor by the time I got there. At this rate, we all would.

We pulled up at Doctor Xu's practice and Ponyboy hobbled out of the car, farting every step of the way. We came inside and Darry went to sign Ponyboy in.

"Hello, sir. Are you Ponyboy's guardian, Darrel C. Curtis Jr.?" the secretary asked.

"Yes…wait. Darrel _C._? I'm Darrel _S._! S. for Shaynne!" he corrected.

"This file says Darrel Cheyenne, sir."

"DALLAS?" Darry turned on Dally, "What have you done?"

"What?" Dally protested, "Everyone knows its Cheyenne! I'm just helpin' them out! Givin' them a nudge in the right direction." he said defensively.

"You changed my file! I presume you hacked into my bank account too?" Darry accused.

"Heck no! I dunno how to use any of that fancy stuff. Just breakin' and enterin'." He turned and winked slyly at me.

"Ponyboy Curtis." the nurse called, cutting the argument short. We all headed back to Room 5. As soon as we entered, Dally got to work explaining Ponyboy's supposed lactose intolerance.

"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Curtis," the nurse interrupted, cutting Dally's _descriptive_ explanation short. She began to leave.

"I ain't no Curtis, dumb-" Dally went on, cussing out the nurse," You think I wanna be a Curtis? Heck no! Like these chumps deserve _this_ Winston! As if they could handle _ME_!" We all looked at him hurt and he turned away with that infamous scowl.

The doctor popped his head in the door and immediately popped it right back out. Ponyboy's emanating stench was quickly filling the room.

"WHOA! Yep, that's a bad one." he said, choking on the polluted aroma. "Alright, what seems to be the problem?"

"You're supposed to be the doctor, simpleton!" Dally mumbled.

The doctor ignored the comment, "Ponyboy? Ironic…Pony… Hmmm…we'll need you to poop in the hat."

"The what?" Pony screeched.

"The hat, the little filter we put in the john to catch your…poo."

Darry lead Ponyboy to the…john? and instructed him to poop in the hat. We heard screaming and then silence, then a small SPLACK. Meanwhile, Dally was being wise with the doctor.

"So, you're Doctor Zoo? You like goin' to the zoo? You like studying the hyena crap?" Dally teased. The doctor ignored him and went to study the hat.

Pony and Darry came back into the room. Ponyboy's face was all twitchy and troubled. I tried to comfort him, but he started bawling his eyes out and exclaimed that Darry started pushing on him to help him go, but he didn't need any help, obviously.

The doctor came back in. "Okay, you need to see the vet, Ponyboy. You have a severe case of roundworms. You probably contracted it from an animal."

"The vet?" I squeaked, "I don't think we have vet insurance!" I exclaimed.

"Dally! Was Ponyboy playing with those stupid, mangy pit bulls of yours?" Darry yelled.

"Maybe…and Blade, Heater, Chain, and Pool Stick are NOT mangy, thank you very much, Wyoming Boy!" Dally defended.

Darry had nothing to say.

"Why do we have to go to the vet?" I asked.

"I don't have the proper medication to give you, but the vet will," the doctor clarified.

So we headed to the vet's…Doctor Guinea. After putting Pony in a leash and muzzle, we walked into the office. Ponyboy wasn't exactly thrilled to be going to the vet's, to say the least.

Walking in the front door, the secretary eyed us suspiciously. "You do realize we're closing in thirty minutes?"

"This is an emergency visit! We were referred to you by Doctor Xu." Darry explained.

"Doctor Xu? Isn't he a…_people doctor_?"

"Yes…" Darry replied reluctantly, "But you see…my little brother here has roundworms and Doctor Xu said Doctor Guinea was the best person to…._handle_ that."

"But why is your younger brother on a leash?" She looked skeptical.

Ponyboy started growling and randomly yipping incessantly.

"He thinks because he's going to a vet he needs to be an animal. He's not the sharpest blade in the gang…" Darry said, not realizing that was sort of an inside thing. The doctor appeared and showed us into the back room.

"Guinea? Like…like guinea pig? I guess you're _meant _ to be a vet, huh?" Dally tantalized unceasingly.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. Who are you?" the vet asked unimpressed.

"Dallas _**BLOOD **_Winston, the one and only. Tulsa's Toughest Hood? Sound familiar?" Dally spoke proudly.

"Are you related? Only family are allowed in the OR."

"I'm about as much family as these idiots have."

"What's the OR?" Ponyboy asked curiously.

"The Operating Room," Darry's eyes widened, "Oops…"

"Huh? NEIGH! WOOF! MEOW! HISS!" Ponyboy started making all these random animal noises and running into walls.

"We're not going to operate! Its just a private place to give you your de-worming medicine!" the vet yelled over Pony's random animal screeches.

**CURTIS HOME, THE NEXT THURSDAY **

Reading aloud from the back of the pill bottle, Ponyboy intoned, "Side effects may include: temporary lactose intolerance, hallucinations, sudden urge to sing Disney songs, uncontrollable temptation to drink printer ink, suicidal thoughts or actions. Is not suggested for puppies under the age of six months. Is not suggested for dogs that are nursing, pregnant, or may become pregnant." Abandoning his train of thought, Ponyboy boarded another train, with an entirely different destination. "Soda, am I nursing?"

"No." I replied. Like Darry said, not the sharpest blade in the gang…

"Dare-Bear," Pony cried, which he does when he's really scared, "what's that?"

"I told you not to call me that!" Darry scolded, "What?"

"The monster."


	4. Dining With Dallas

The misspellings are obviously supposed to be there. Ummm…we love Dally still though! Enjoy!

POV Darry

"Whaaaaat?" I shouted over the pounding rain. Johnny had asked me something, but I couldn't make it out over the raging storm. He looked up at me, his dark-brown, almost black eyes, filled with longing.

"What are we having for dinner? C'mon Darry! I wanna get back to playin' Lock Ponyboy in the Bathroom!"

"Teeeeeell them I'm bein' indeciiiiiisive!" I said irritably. I love stretching out my vowels, you see. Now those consonants, they're so stupid! The gang doesn't seem to notice this because they're so used to it. But I am quite proud of my vowels. Vowels are perfect. They have to be! Adam and Eve both start with vowels and they were originally perfect! So, vowels _must _be ideal!

Johnny went down to tell them and less than two minutes later, Dally came storming up. "Make up yo mind, crotchety pants!" You could hear the rest of them at the bottom of the stairs snickering. I did not find it amusing.

"Iiiii was in the middle of reading my aaaaaaarticle on parenting a problemaaaaaatic chiiiiiild! I've already leaaaaarned that saaatchels can help carry your chiiiiild's important beloooongings," I explained enthusiastically.

"Yeah, no, I don't care. What about dinner?"

"What is up with aaaall y'all hormonal teenagers? You just had peanut butter ceeeeleeery a couple hoooours ago!" I shot back, "If you waaaant dinner so bad, make it youuuurself!"

"Fine, I will," Dally shrugged nonchalantly and made his way towards the kitchen.

"Okaaaay…" I was shocked Dally was so easy-going with my first Thursday lecture.

There was the general clatter of pots and pans, rummaging through closets, and the occasional bang and colorful word. The rest of the gang was sitting at the door of the basement, crowded together like a herd of sheep. Maybe they were worried of what Dally would make…or maybe they were worried he'd get mad and come after them with sharp kitchen utensils. Like last time…

"Well, are you coming or what?" he shouted angrily. We all walked briskly into the dining room and looked at the table. There were name cards on each of our seats:

Soda-Popp, Wyomin'-Boi!, 2-Bitt, Ponniboi, Johnny, Steeve, and ME! was what he had on each name tag. I tried to pay no attention to my name card, but was a little offended he only spelled Johnny right.

We all sat at our designated seat and there was a piece of cardboard coated in Sharpie on the table.

"Dally, what is thaaat?" I asked.

"It's a menu! Duh!" he answered impatiently.

I looked at the so-called 'menu'. It had different, poorly-spelled sections on it. Like this:

Apitizers:

- a reel delikassi

Mayn Corses:

First corse: maet piy- sweet n' salti

Secend corse: vegi bergir- vegitable bergir

Thrd corse: raman- yummi

Beviragis:

Stake shake- proteen-y

Beer- 2-Bitt wil want this

Watir- tap, not filtired

Deserts:

Sylvia's Sinfull Sundae- of al days too bee sinfull, why sundae?

_His spelling is garbage, lemme tell you that! _I thought sourly. But I wouldn't tell Dally that, for sure. He came over and asked us what we wanted for a beverage. Two-Bit and Steve wanted beer, while Soda, Ponyboy, and Johnny wanted water. I was craving that steak shake. Dally started blending a piece of raw steak, adding basil occasionally.

"Dally, where did you get the baaaasiiil?" I asked nervously. I wasn't concerned about the raw meat; I've become immune to bacteria after consuming Soda's home-cooked meals on several occasions.

"Neighbor's garden," Dally answered casually, like stealing was a regular thing. Which it was.

"Dallas, what eeeeelse did youuuu steeeeal?" I asked sternly.

"Uh…veggies…and such…"

"DALLAS AMADEUS WINSTON! You will replaaant Miiiss Ferguson's gardeeen first thing tomorrooow!"

"Don't you go there with me, Wyoming Boy! I made dinner! Should you really care where the veggies came from?"

The others (Steve and Two-Bit) began demanding appetizers, quite rudely in my opinion.

"Shut up! Beverages first!" Dally snapped.

He gave us our little beverages in Dixie cups. I decided to leave mine be until I got up the courage to taste it.

"But Dally…this beer is flat!" Two-Bit whined. He's very particular about his beer.

I knew what Dally would say before he said it, "Drink it!" Then he began putting the appetizer bowls on the table. One with chocolate pudding, one with…apple juice? and one with potato chips.

"You are expected to dip!" Dally called out commandingly.

I tentatively reached for a potato chip, dipping it first in the pudding, and then the apple juice and I hesitated before raising it cautiously to my mouth. I sniffed it.

"EAT THE DANG CHIP!" Dally commanded, "It's my favorite dish."

_Oh glory_, I thought as I popped the chip into my mouth. I am not even gonna go into what it tasted like, just the description will make you want to throw up. I chewed once…then swallowed it hastily. I immediately attempted to wash it down with a swig of my…steak shake. WORST. MISTAKE. EVER.

We all took a bite, washing it down with our drinks. Dally seemed satisfied, so he brought out the first course. It was the most disgusting meat pie I'd ever live to taste. Raw ground beef overflowing from an Oreo pie crust, with whipped cream on top. I didn't wanna try it, but I had to. I ordered a refill on my steak shake and ate one whole slice. It was room temperature and the whipped cream was melting, but other than that, it was not as bad as it sounds. Okay, it was much, much, much worse.

"Next course!" Dally shouted to the imaginary kitchen staff, then scurried into the kitchen, grabbing a platter of six 'veggie burgers' and came into the dining room.

"Dallas…that's a carrot on a bun…" Johnny hesitantly stated.

"Ohhhhh, you took Miiiss Ferguson's carrooots, toooo? Those were priiiiize winners!" I added.

Dally ignored both of us and motioned us to eat it. Before we could eat, Ponyboy went on a crazy hallucination-attack from his roundworm pills and began petting Johnny incessantly. "Darry! Look at the little puppy! Oh, what a cute puppy you are! You're so cute! You're such a cute baby-puppy-boy!" he squealed, "Where'd Johnny go? He'd wanna meet this puppy!" Ponyboy added insanely. Johnny squirmed uncomfortably in his seat; he knew Ponyboy was hallucinating, but it was still awkward.

Two-Bit, who became magically drunk on the flat beer, called out, "Dally! Course three!" and Dallas came back in with a platter of bowls filled with uncooked Ramen noodles and the seasoning packet sprinkled on top. Lecture time!

"Ramen noodles are GARBAGE!" I ranted, "They might as well put straight carbohydrates on a plate and serve them to you! That's all Ramen is! Noodles and those sodium-rich flavor packets! It's a heart attack in a bag!" Ohh, do I ever love lecturing on Thursdays.

They all ignored my rant; after all, it was Thursday. Ponyboy picked it up and began munching on it, like it was a giant cracker. I didn't touch my Ramen. I let it sit there with the rest of my steak shake, veggie burger, and meat pie. Then Dally brought in Sylvia's Sinful Sundae.

Sylvia's Sinful Sundae isn't exactly what you necessarily think it is. It might be if your mind isn't sick and twisted. Chocolate. Chocolate everywhere. I was unaware of the fact that we even owned that much chocolate. Thinking about it now, we didn't. Darn that Dallas. Couldn't he just buy something for once in his God forsaken life? No… I guess not.

It was the only part of my meal I didn't wash down with steak shake. I'm the chocolate fiend in the family, but even for me this was a bit on the chocolaty side. Dallas was sitting across the table from me taking a handful of everything and stuffing them all in his cavernous oral cavity at the same time. I had never realized just how important chewing with your mouth closed was. Not necessarily for you, but for the poor soul sitting across from you. Dallas didn't seem to be able to grasp this concept. All he could handle was the chewing.

"YYYYUUUUMMMM! This is my favorite meal!" he shouted, spraying us all with a mixture of… well… y'know. Stuff. It was atrocious.

"Yes, Dallaaaaas, deliciiious." I will never agree to let anyone ever make dinner. EVER AGAIN.


	5. Sexist Shopping Trip

We're back with more stupidity! Sorry it took us a whole year to update, but we have some good chapter ideas, so expect some more hilarious adventures with the gang. Ponyboy may or may not have lost a few IQ points since last summer… ENJOY!

POV Darry

"Dare-Bear! Is that a new man-bag?" Pony squealed, running to my side to inspect the bag.

"It's a saaaatchel!" I chastised.

Tears suddenly sprung to Ponyboy's eyes. "W-What happened to your old one?"

"I…" I was trying to think of a good way to break it to him, "I-I-I-I-I _replaaaaced_ it."

"Why would you do such a horrible thing?" Ponyboy bawled. Ponyboy tends to become rather attached to my satchels. I told Pony to pop a few aspirins and take a nap because he was starting to hyperventilate. But he wouldn't obey my commands. He wanted to know the details of my new bag.

As Ponyboy screamed, "TELL ME! I DESERVE TO KNOW!" Soda and Steve walked in the front door, covered head to toe in grease. Steve was also dripping sweat from his eyes. Disgusting.

Snorting repulsively, Steve questioned, "What does he deserve to know?"

I ignored the question and grimaced. "Steve, whaaaat are you doooing here?"

"I have a throat infection…"

"But why are you _heeere_?"

"My dad kicked me out 'cause he's hacked off at my," he sighed in resignation, "snot."

"Ohhh, wonderfuuuuul…" I added, with much sarcasm to my tone.

At this time, Dally ambled out of the kitchen, with a barbeque chicken wing in each hand and one hanging out of his mouth.

"What's goin' on in here?" he mumbled around a mouth full of chicken.

"Darry. Won't. Tell. Me. What. Happened. To. His. _BAG_," Pony gasped through breaths.

"Alright, alriiiiight!" I gave in reluctantly, "Everybody peeeee and get your snaaaacks befooore I begiiiin!"

After about twenty minutes, everybody had peed and gotten their food. So, I had them all sit down in a circle, and I began melodramatically:

"It aaall staaarted yeeesterday-"

At this _exact_ moment, Two-Bit and Johnny came perusing in our back door.

"WHAAAAT?" I screeched, unable to control my overflowing cauldron of emotions.

"Um…hold on. What's goin' on here? Was I gonna miss story time?" He rushed forward and plopped down in the circle, dragging Johnny behind him.

"I shall begiiiin aneeeew. It aaalll staaarted yeeesterday…"

**THE MALL, YESTERDAY AFTERNOON**

While browsing the shelves at Vera Bradley, I searched for the perfect new satchel. Ponyboy had teethed on the old one, and I needed to find a replacement as soon as possible. Oh, do I ever love Vera Bradley.

"Sir, can I help you find something? Looking for a present for your wife, daughter, sister, mother, grandmother...?" a salesman approached me and asked. He was about six foot four, a few inches taller than me. But they were wasted inches, as he had mantis-like posture. He was ugly and sweaty and pale as all get out. I deserve every one of _my_ inches.

"I'd liiike to see your meeen's colleeection," I stated, gesturing to all of the pink bags surrounding me. I glanced up at his name tag, which read, "My name is Bruno. How may I be of assistance?"

He began ringing his sweaty hands, in a villainous fashion. "Sir, we don't _have _a _men's _collection…"

"W-W-W-WHAAAAT? Are you being seeexiist?" Unable to comprehend this blasphemy, I grasped two handfuls of my shirt, in a practiced gesture, and ripped it from my fit thorax.

The women in the store swooned at my angelic appearance, and I knew at that moment that they could help me accomplish my errand. "THIIIIS IS AN OUUUTRAGE! VERA BRAAADLEY IS SEEXIIST, IN FAAAVOR OF WOOOMEEEN! Isn't that riiight, laaadies?"

They all smiled and nodded vigorously. "WEEE MUST PUT AN EEEND TO THIS NOOONSEEENSE!" I called, raising a fist in the air.

Bruno, in a miraculous show of strength, shoved me out the door. Swarms of women began beating him with their purses. He rushed inside and locked the door.

One woman suggested a marvelous idea. "We should boycott this place!"

The rest of us agreed casually and we began making picket signs out of pizza boxes discarded by the food court. As soon as we completed the signs, we all stood in an angry mass outside of the Vera Bradley store, screaming catchy slogans such as, "MEN DESERVE PURSES SATCHELS, TOO!" and "DOWN WITH BRUNO, UP WITH DARREL!" and "VERA BRADLEY'S A SEXIST PIG!"

I was quite pleased at the mob I had acquired. My shirtlessness was undoubtedly attracting more and more women every moment. In the midst of this ruckus, a middle-aged woman came up to me. "This is something that has been a longtime coming. Thank you for getting it started."

"I just waaanted a neeew baaag. You seeee, my baby brooother, Pooonyboooy, teethed on my ooold one. It was a Raaalph Lauuuren, last year's _faaall_ colleeection," I added, with an air of disgust in my tone.

To my surprise, the lady emptied her bag and offered it to me. "Here. It's the mocha pattern bag from last year's Vera Bradley fall collection. Much higher quality, you know. It's the most masculine one there is. My husband bought it for me, but he doesn't know what I like."

I sheepishly accepted the bag, dumping the contents of my mildly teethed Ralph Lauren into the Vera Bradley. Handing it over to her, I said, "Aaactually, I think he has quiiite good taaaste."

Noticing the small teeth marks on the reinforced corners of the bag, she asked, "How old is your baby brother?"

"169 months."

"Oh…" she said, mildly shocked.

"He turned fourteeeen last mooonth. He doesn't liiike it when I buy neeew baaags. This is why I can't haaave niiice thiiings." I added despairingly.

I then left the rest of the boycott in her capable hands and went home to make dinner for the boys.

**PRESENT TIME**

"Oh…" Ponyboy said, eyes bugging out of his head. "You gave away my lovely bag to that broad?"

I was shocked to hear such language coming from Ponyboy's innocent mouth. "Where eeever did you heeear such a wooord?" I demanded peevishly.

"Dally."

"What? I would never!" Dally defended.

"_Dally_?" we all said in unison.

"Okay!"

I noticed Two-Bit was absent from the circle, flipping through channels in search of Mickey Mouse. He paused at a national news station.

"Darry…" Two-Bit called hesitantly as a news reporter began speaking of the newest story.

"Yesterday afternoon, a Tulsa resident sparked up a riot that has spread across the entire country. He called into question the motives behind Vera Bradley not having a men's line of bags. Here is a clip of security camera footage from the store where it all began."

Suddenly, a bird's eye view of me shredding my T-shirt flashed across the screen, followed by shots of groups of women rioting at Vera Bradley stores across the country.

"Oh glory…"


End file.
